Isis

My Goat Isis

Isis was a goat kid. She was given to me when I was eleven by my school teacher who had a goat farm. She was part Nubian goat. She had long silver ears that hung down past her nose like a basset hound's. Her eyes were big and bright. They were topaz and held wide open as if she was always caught by surprise. Her coat was several colors of brown. She had white markings on her face and a black dorsal strip that ran all the way down her back to the end of her tail. She was a beautiful animal.

She seemed exotic to me as she was the only goat I had ever owned. She said “baaa” loudly and often. Not in a way that seemed to mean she needed anything, but rather as if to offer her opinion.
She followed me around when she could. If I was not there, she followed Trinket, my dog.

After Trinket and me, Isis liked Doughnut the miniature donkey. The cows, horses and sheep held little interest to her. She seemed to like best the animals that did not travel in herds of their own kind. She rode contentedly in my cart, legs folded up underneath her, when I took Doughnut out for a drive around the farm. She would follow Trinket and Doughnut as they chased me down the hill on my sled.

One time Isis went on an overnight adventure from the farm with Trinket and Doughnut. They came back a day later, all with porcupine quills in their muzzles. What were a goat, a donkey and a dog doing with a porcupine? Obviously their curiosity had gotten the better of them all.

Isis died of pneumonia one winter. Initially I'd been told she was missing me and Trinket who were away from the farm for the school year. Next she was described as being sick and depressed. Shortly after that she died. Isis must have missed playing with me and the dog and once she got sick she had no real incentive to fight herself well again. For that I will always be sorry.